Outtakes from an Evening

The Burp invited us and her next-door neighbours round for a barbecue. She warned that Machiavelli had chicken pox - had we had chicken pox? Grumpy knew he had, but the only two people who could reveal to me the details of my childhood medical history are passed on, no more, ceased to be, expired, bereft of life, joined the choir invisible. In short, they are ex-parrots. But so starved was I of social interaction that I decided to risk it and go.

"Shingles are no joke," warned Grumpy.

But hell, neither is week after week of the uninterrupted company of just him & the cat. Herpes seemed like a small price to pay.

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Bay Leaf had learnt a magic trick and was keen to show me. Unfortunately I accidentally blew it for him, because I am hazelblackberry, crusher of young children's dreams.

He's a persistent blighter, though, and scooted inside to scour - scour! - the internet for a blackberry-proof jape. He re-emerged a while later with some piece of sorcery that involved me writing down various numbers that he couldn't predict and yet, somehow, from a sealed envelope, he produced...the sum of those numbers!!!! Eeeeee!

One of the numbers was my age.

"A gentlemen never asks a lady her age," said Grumpy, providing Bay Leaf with an opening to various ill-mannered jokes, if he'd been older and ill-mannered.

But it was too late, I'd already scrawled 36 onto the piece of paper and Bay Leaf delivered his verdict: "Phwoar!"

I looked at him and said, "You know, where I lie today you too must lie some day." He looked at me blankly. Precious little Marty Robbins is played in the Burprooster household. Just criminal.

After he'd messed with my head he asked for another volunteer. Neighbourwoman put up her hand.

"Okay," said Bay Leaf. "Clean up."

I regret to say that we encouraged the little stinker by guffawing heartily.

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The boys went off next door to drink port. It turns out the neighbourman also convinced Grumpy to buy a very expensive bottle of wine. But when your friend's next-door-neighbour looks remarkably like Chopper,* well, you just take his advice on wine, okay?

We chickie-babes had lapsed into a reverie by the chimonier when The Burp suddenly remembered Australian Idol was on and shooed us inside to watch TV.

The boys came back just as Idol finished and some movie started. The pre-movie voice-over warned that, "This show is possible not suitable for children. It contains coarse language and nudity."

"Alright!" said The Rooster. "A bit of nudity!"

He paused, thought for a moment, and then added: "As long as it isn't male nudity."

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Then it was time to go:

"Thanks for a great evening!"

"No worries. I'll read about it this week on the blog."



*Only joking, next-door neighbourman. You're way noicer. Really. I mean it. Please.